Homework To Do
by angel-flame
Summary: Based on a line from the trailer of the upcoming movie ... Virgil asks Alan if he has homework to do ... but doesn't quite anticpate the consequences! Set while the boys are teenagers; RR please!
1. Chapter I

Author's Note: This is just a little drabble … inspired by the line in the trailer for the movie where Virgil says to Alan "Haven't you got homework to do?" … that got me thinking about the teenage Alan Tracy, and the mischief he could get up to … and somehow led to this! It's mostly out of my imagination, so I apologise if they are out of character … 

Please be kind! … or be nasty, it really doesn't bother me ;-) But I would _prefer_ nice! 

******************************

Lunch was a strained affair at the Tracy household. Jeff Tracy had – possibly unwisely – left all of his sons alone together in the household, under the charge of Scott. Jeff and Grandma were both visiting family friends, while Tin-Tin and Kyrano had gone back to Malaysia for a holiday. Thus it was, that the five Tracy brothers had the house to themselves for a week … and things were not going well. 

Within two hours, Gordon had two of his older brothers out for his blood, after he sent them trekking ten kilometres out into the bush in the middle of the day, searching for Scott's car keys … all the while keeping the keys safely at the house. Scott and Virgil were – understandably enough – very unimpressed when they arrived back at the house to find a triumphant Gordon standing in the backyard waving the keys at them and smiling. Gordon had taken off, and remained in hiding until Alan called that lunch was ready; he figured that they wouldn't try too much over lunch. 

It had been a strict condition imposed by Jeff that breakfast, lunch, and dinner were to be eaten together every day – despite Alan's protests about Gordon's sleepiness – and that there were to be no pranks of any kind over meals. Gordon knew that Scott would not disobey his father that directly. 

He entered quickly and sat down. Virgil glared at him malevolently, and Scott seemed a little … distant. Alan couldn't resist stirring the pot: "So Scott, Virg … Lunch is late because of you guys. Where were you this morning? I couldn't find you …" 

He sat back, grinning, as Scott shoot a death-glare at Gordon, who smirked, before Virgil hooked a foot around his ankle, and pulled him under the table. Gordon disappeared with a shout, and Alan and John stifled their own shouts of laughter. 

"No pranks at the dining table," Scott reprimanded absently, stifling his own laughter as the disheveled and rather unimpressed face of his second youngest brother appeared above table level. Virgil smiled sweetly. 

"What was that, squirt?" he asked Gordon. "How about, 'I'm sorry, my older and wiser brothers, for sending you on a wild goose chase this morning'?" 

Gordon pretended to consider this. "Well actually Virgil," he contested, "you guys can't be _that_ smart if you fell for it – ouch!" He disappeared under the table again, this time courtesy of Scott. 

"You know, Gordon," Scott said, seriously, "it could actually have been dangerous – it was pretty hot out there." 

Gordon poked out his tongue. "Well, if you guys weren't weaklings …" 

Virgil dropped the butter. "Hey! I resent that!" 

Gordon laughed. John grinned as he watched the exchange – this was what arguments with Gordo were always like: fast and furious, but quick to settle. He would play the prank, get told off, argue a little, and then forget about it. 

Alan, on the other hand, could get rather angry over little things … and he could pull some fearsome pranks, when he really wanted to. John remembered one the previous year, when Alan had prank-called Virgil and sent him half-way across the state, believing that an original manuscript of a piece of Beethoven was being auctioned … before Virg happened to mention it to Scott, who looked it up and told him that it was a fake. Virg had not been happy, particularly as Alan had emptied out most of his fuel tank, leaving him stranded until Jeff came to find him. This had been retribution for Virgil ratting on Alan, after the kid had gone on a date without telling Jeff. Yep, John decided, Alan could pull a pretty good prank … 

He tensed suddenly, as Scott began talking about the arrangements for that night. Scott, Virgil, and John were going to a soccer match that night … and Gordon and Alan were not able to go, as the last time they had gone to a soccer match they had both gotten drunk and had to be carried out by their brothers. This was not to say that their brothers had not been a fair bit over the limit too, but they were better at hiding it. John knew that his two younger brothers were furious at Scott, Virg, and John for not waiving the rules while their father was away … and they were unlikely to forget it quickly … or at least until they had "punished" their brothers sufficiently. 

"So," Scott was saying, "we'll be leaving at about 5 o'clock, and we won't be back until the early hours of the morning, at which time I expect to find both of you _in bed_," he said emphatically. "And no going out during the night, either." 

"What are you going to do – handcuff us to the bedpost?" Gordon asked sarcastically. He and Alan had every intention of going out that night into town, and possibly even sneaking into the soccer match. Of course, they would have to leave early and rush back home to beat their brothers, but they thought they could manage it. 

John grinned. "Don't tempt me, kid." 

"Scott, can't we –" Alan began. 

"No." 

"But –" 

"No." 

"Oh come _on_ Scott!" Alan exclaimed. "You sound like Dad," he complained peevishly. 

"It's a good thing _someone_ round here does," Scott replied. "Alan, this isn't a point for negotiation. You two stay here tonight. End of discussion." 

Alan looked appealingly at John and Virgil, but neither showed any signs of relenting. "You guys stuffed up last time," Virg said, almost apolegetically. 

"So did you," Alan protested. "You guys were hardly tee-totallers!" 

"That's not the point, Alan," John told him. "It's legal for us. And anyway, a rule's a rule." 

Gordon shrugged; he had expected this. Didn't mean he wouldn't make his brothers' lives hell for the next few days, of course, but he hadn't seriously expected Scott to back down and allow them to come. Alan, on the other hand, glowered at Scott even more. 

"Anyway," Virgil said casually, "haven't you got homework to do?" 

Gordon cringed inwardly. _That was _not_ a wise move, Virg_, he thought. He regarded his brother with something almost amounting to pity. Almost. He fully expected the fireworks to be spectacular and was looking forward to watching the show. 

Alan froze for a second, staring at Virg, a variety of emotions working their way across his face: anger, irritation followed by … 

Gordon cringed again. That smile Alan was now wearing did _not_ bode well for Virgil. To his surprise, Alan got up from the table. 

"You know what, Virg," he said, too nicely, "I think I do. Thanks for reminding me." He walked out of the room. 

"Hey!" Scott called, "what about your lunch?" 

"Not hungry," was the terse reply. 

John looked at Virgil. "Blown it now, Virg," he commiserated. 

"Think I should apologise?" Virg asked Gordon. Of all of them, Gordo knew Alan best. 

Gordon shook his head. "Nah. He'll get over it." 

Virgil nodded and sat back. What he had unfortunately forgotten was that not only did Gordon know Alan best, but in all likelihood he sympathised with Alan, and also had good reason to be angry with Virgil – and the others – for not letting him go to the soccer match. He had recognised the gleam in Alan's eyes – Virgil was in for some monster payback, and Gordon didn't want to get in Alan's way. 

The remainder of lunch was a quiet affair. Gordon ate slowly, wanting to give Alan plenty of time. When he finished, he quickly said, "Challenge you guys to a game of pool volleyball?" 

Scott nodded. "You're on." 

"I'm with Gordo," John said quickly. Their younger brother was by far the best in the pool. 

Virg grinned. "We'll beat you anyway, squirt." 

Gordon leant up the stairs. "Alan? You coming to play volleyball?" 

There was silence for a few seconds, before a loud: "No!" 

"OK," Gordon replied, running down to the pool to join his brothers, who were already in their swimmers. 

Gordo and John won each of the three games easily; thanks to Gordo's superior skills in the water, and John's strength. John worked out – a lot. They were in the pool for about two hours, during which time they saw neither hide nor hair of Alan. Gordo, however, consistently assured them that Alan was fine. "He's just sulking," he told Scott, in between games, "he'll be down soon!" 

Scott and Virg eventually declared themselves beaten. "But you'd better watch your backs," Virgil warned jokingly. 

"Not half as much as you'd better watch yours," Gordon commented, noticing Alan coming down the stairs towards them. 

Virg turned around quickly. "Aw man," he murmured, "don't tell me we're in for an 'Alan tantrum'?!" 

Gordon grinned evilly. "There's no 'we' about it, bro. Not as far as _I'm_ concerned. You three are in for it." He watched his brothers sweating nervously, as he floated on his back easily. 

"Hey guys," Alan said, stripping over to his swimmers, and diving in … right next to Gordon, splashing him and dragging him under. 

The others laughed. Gordon surfaced and turned on Alan. "Right, that's it," he growled, "no more 'Mr Nice Guy'." He grabbed Alan and pulled him under; the two began a joking wrestling match, surfacing for air every now and again. At last Alan conceded defeat, and climbed out. Gordon stayed in the pool. 

Scott eyed Virg and John. "Guess we should go and get ready," he suggested. Gordon's eyes narrowed a little, but Alan seemed unfazed. 

"Sure," he said, with a shrug, watching as his three older brothers walked off towards the room they shared. 

As soon as they were out of sight, Gordon turned to Alan. "OK, Al, what did you do? You've got the classic 'Cat who's eaten the cream' look. Spill." 

Alan leant back, and grinned. He looked at his watch, and began counting down. "Ten … nine … eight … seven … six … five … four … three … two … one …" 

There was a crash from the direction of their older brothers's bedroom, then a yell of "ALAN!" 

Alan grinned, finished triumphantly: "Zero," as Gordon turned to look up at the balcony of his brother's room. "What did you do?" he exclaimed, sounding extremely amused, as he looked back at Alan. 

"My homework," Alan replied cryptically. 

There was another yell of "ALAN!" 

Alan got to his feet. "I'll be back," he said with a cheeky grin. "Give me two minutes before you tell 'em where I've gone, OK?" 

Gordon nodded. "Whatever." 

He leant back in the pool, watching as Alan ran off towards the garage, before closing his eyes. 

He lay there for about thirty seconds before a splash of cold water forced him to open his eyes with a start; taken unawares, he slipped under the surface of the water and swallowed a mouthful before emerging. 

The sight that greeted him at the edge of the pool nearly made him swallow another mouthful as his jaw fell open, then he started laughing uproariously, before choking over a mouthful of pool water. As he recovered his breath, he stared back at Scott, Virgil and John, and began laughing again. 

"What happened to you guys?" he asked between coughs, not trusting himself to look back at them, knowing that he would start laughing again. 

"Where is that little brat?" Scott asked. He was covered with honey and feathers, he had a little brother to catch and kill, he was supposed to be going out in half an hour, and now his second youngest brother was laughing at him. 

Gordon started laughing again. "Didn't I warn you guys?" he managed to choke out. By way of response, John – who was the least covered in honey and feathers – grabbed him and pulled him out of the pool, and dumped him on a deckchair. "Hey, hey!" Gordon protested, as his rather tall and bulky older brothers stood over him threateningly. "That hurt!" 

"Gordon, are you going to tell us where the hell that punk is now, or am I going to have to drain the pool with you in it?" Virgil threatened. His threat was backed up by John and Scott, who looked extremely angry, and, with no Alan to focus their anger on, they fell back on Gordon. 

"Hey!" Gordon protested, "I didn't have anything to do with this one!" 

"Don't think we didn't know you were delaying us delibrately," John replied. 

"Then why did you stay?" Gordon couldn't help but ask, his eyes laughing. 

John death-glared his younger brother, and Gordon raised his hands defensively. John was _not_ to be messed with when he was this mad. 

"I don't know where he is, OK?" Gordon said quickly. "He went towards the garage." He glanced at his watch, and noticed that he had given Al three minutes. _He should be happy with that,_ he decided. 

John nodded grimly. "Gordon, if I find out that you had anything to do with this …" 

"I know, you'll skin me alive," Gordon finished. 

"You wish," John muttered. "You would be so lucky …" 

As his older brothers turned to go, Gordon said nervously, "Uh … guys?" 

"What?" Scott asked. 

"Just don't kill him." 

Virg considered the idea. "No promises." 

They set off in search of their errant younger brother. Gordon waited thirty seconds, then went after them. These were fireworks he did not want to miss. 

Suddenly he heard the sound of a car engine roaring, and then Scott's Porsche burst out of the garage, with Alan at the wheel. Gordon grinned as his younger brother drove past and gave him a wave before driving off the property. "Be back later," Alan yelled. "Eat my dust!" 

Gordon turned to see his – by now extremely unhappy – older brothers emerge from the garage. He frowned a little … why hadn't they taken Virg's car and followed Alan? 

"That little punk …" Virgil growled, after Gordo put this to him. "He disabled my car, that's why!" 

Gordon stifled his laughter, and tried to think of something to ask before he split at the sides. "What did he do?" he asked, curiousity overcoming him. 

Scott glared again. "Come and look." 

Gordon's mouth fell open as he looked into the carnage that had been his brothers' bedroom. The room was covered with honey and feathers … _you have to hand it to the kid_, Gordon thought, _he sure does his pranks properly_. The remains of a wooden frame were littered about the room. 

"I suppose that the door was partially open, and the frame leant on the door, right?" Gordon said. 

John nodded. 

"And when the door opened, the frame slipped off –" 

"Nearly taking my head off in the process," Virgil grumbled. 

"– and there was honey in buckets on the frame, and it split everywhere. And the wood hit a switch on the ground that turned on the fan, which blew feathers throughout the room," Gordon finished. 

Scott looked at him suspiciously. "How do you know so much about it?" he asked slowly. 

Gordon cursed himself. "I pulled a prank like this on a kid at school …" he admitted. "It was a few years ago. The kid pulled one on me, so I pulled one right back. I think I won, though. So," he continued quickly, "how are you guys going to clean yourselves – and that room – up?" 

"Oh, _we_ aren't going to clean the room," Virgil said, "Alan is." 

"You know," Gordon said, "I'd suggest you start working to get that honey off, if I were you. Just an idea." 

He grinned as his – very angry – brothers stomped off towards the bathrooms. "Tell you what," he called after them, "if you're not ready for the soccer match in time, I can go instead." 

His only reply, was a one-fingered gesture from over Scott's shoulder. Gordon shrugged, murmuring, "Worth a try …" 

He walked down towards the dining room – intending to see if he could find any snacks hidden away in there … though he was not expecting to find much honey! From the looks of things, Alan had emptied out the entire honey supply of the household. He munched on a snack, while listening to the yells of his brothers … 

_"Hey! That hurt!" _

_"Virg, this has got to come off … John, help me hold him down!" _

Gordon nearly choked on his food at that, and the yell of pain that followed. He shook his head sadly. It was a brilliant prank … but by the sounds of things, Alan was in big trouble when the others found him. 

He had been in the kitchen for about 15 minutes when he heard a noise from the laundry. He carefully walked inside … to find his younger brother creeping inside. "Alan," he whispered. 

Alan looked up with a grin, recognising the voice. "Hey Gordo." 

"Where's the car?" 

"Just round the corner of the driveway," Alan responded with a grin. "Where are the others?" 

"Cleaning off the honey and feathers … good prank, by the way, bro," Gordon said, patting Alan on the shoulder. 

Alan laughed. "Thanks. Figured I should make it spectacular." 

Suddenly, the door from the kitchen began opening. Alan made a bolt for outside as John appeared in the doorway. "Gordon, what … YOU LITTLE RAT!" he yelled, dropping the dirty clothes and taking off after Alan. Gordon moved quickly to one side as Scott and Virg – who were also bringing dirty clothes down to the laundry – took off after their errant youngest brother. 

It did not take them long to catch Alan. Fear may lend wings, but blinding anger can too, and nothing short of a nuclear explosion would have stopped Scott, Virg, and John from catching Alan. 

John caught up to him first, and tackled him to the ground, promptly sitting on his back. "JOHN!" Alan yelled, "I can't breathe; get off me!" 

Scott and Virg arrived seconds later, and between them they pulled Alan up and frogmarched him back into the house, and up to their room, Gordo following. 

Scott held Alan firmly by the scruff of his neck and pointed into the carnage that had been his room. "What is _this_?" he growled. 

"Your room," Alan replied cheekily. John cuffed him over the back of his head. "Hey! … It's my woodwork project," he conceded. 

"Your _what_?!" Virgil exclaimed. "_Woodwork project?!_"  
  


"Yeah. I had to construct something to hold up food … but it couldn't be anything like a conventional shelf. So …" He nodded at the wooden construction lying in several pieces on the ground. "And it had to be strong," he continued, "so the fan was there to test whether it could withstand winds. And the feather were for a soft cushioning so nothing broke." 

"But the feathers blew around the room," Virgil growled. 

"Yeah …" Alan looked naively disappointed. "Guess I need to work on the design a little more, huh?" 

"No kidding, Einstein," Virg retorted. 

"_Why_ did you build this in _our room?_" Scott demanded. 

Alan looked at him innocently. "Well, I know how supportive you are of my school work, Scott," he said. 

Scott looked like he was about to show the level of his support by shoving Alan's head through the wall. Virg was glowering at Alan, and John was so angry he was shaking. 

"Anyway," Alan continued, "you told me to do my homework, and that reminded me of this. I'm back to school next week, and I'm supposed to have the finished model finished by then." He grinned cheekily at his brothers. 

"Right," Scott said, after taking several deep breaths and trying to calm down – but failing miserably, "we are going to the soccer match. You and Gordon are staying here. When we get back, I expect that room to be spotless! Understand?" 

Alan nodded. "I'm not an idiot." 

This – if possible – incensed his brothers even further. Scott's grip on Alan's neck tightened a little as another point occurred to him. "Alan – _where is my car?_" 

"Just down the driveway," Alan replied calmly. He frowned at Scott's incredulous look. "What? It is. Oh, and Virg, you'll find everything you need to fix your car in the back seat." He smiled again, and Gordon snorted with laughter. John turned on him. 

"Hey!" he protested, "I had nothing to do with this one!" 

"You kept us playing volleyball while he was setting this up," John accused. "You convinced us not to go see if he was OK. That makes you guilty in my book. You have to help Alan clean this up." 

"Aw hell," Gordon groaned. 

"Hey!" Scott exclaimed, "cut the language. You know perfectly well it's one of the things not tolerated in this house." 

"Excuse me?" Gordon protested. "You are currently holding Alan by the neck so tight that I think he's going to have a permanent hand mark there. You're hardly one to talk about maintaining the rules, as I believe that 'physical violence' or 'causing harm delibrately' are against the rules." 

"Shut up," Virgil snapped. 

"Right," Scott said, having loosened his hold a little, "we are going out now. You two are staying here. Oh Alan … where are my car keys?" 

Gordon could have sworn that a there was a brief flicker of panic in Alan's eyes. "I don't know," he replied. "I had them in my pocket, but when you guys jumped me … they could be anywhere." 

"It's times like these," Virg said, "you wish Mum and Dad had stopped at three." 

Gordon protested loudly, "WHAT ABOUT ME?" 

"You, squirt," John told him, "are worse than this one, most of the time." 

"OK," Scott said, "that is it. We don't have time to find them now. We'll take Virgil's car … once, of course, Alan has fixed it." 

"Sure," Alan said easily. 

It was the work of a minute for Alan to fix Virg's car – once John had retrived the parts from Scott's car – and within seconds, the eldest Tracy brothers had departed for the soccer match. 

"So," Gordon said, once they were alone, "where are the keys?" 

"In my pocket," Alan told him calmly. "Where else?" 

Gordon laughed. "Poor Scott … so close, and yet so far." 

"Let's go," Alan said, moving towards the Porsche. 

"Wait," Gordon said. "Give it half an hour. Knowing them, they'll call in about ten minutes, and there'll be hell if we aren't there to answer. Besides, there's a call I have to make …" 

"Who to?" Alan asked immediately, following Gordon back inside. 

"A cleaning service." 

Alan grinned. "Nice one, Gordo." 

Gordon made a quick call; he was evidently happy with the outcome, as he entered the room he shared with Alan, with a big grin on his face. "You know Alan, I'm so glad I'm dating a girl who's mother runs a cleaning agency. Her mom and her will be here in twenty minutes. All we have to do is let them in. They'll get it done in an hour, and then make their own way out …" He high-fived his brother. 

"We're a team," Alan laughed. 

"Yeah … though usually, I pull the pranks, and you clean 'em up," Gordon reflected. He glanced down at the phone as it started ringing, then grinned. "Call me psychic. It's Scott." 

"Hello, my dear brother," Gordon said, in a mock serious voice. "To what do we owe the honour of this call?" 

Alan laughed uproariously, as he watched Scott's face. He seemed – surprised to find Alan and Gordon there in the house. 

Gordon read Scott's face clearly, and decided to make his brother squirm. "Why, Scott," he exclaimed, "you didn't … you couldn't have thought … you didn't seriously think we'd leave the house and disobey your orders, did you?" He shook his head righteously, trying not to laugh as Scott's face darkened. 

"You guys have been disobeying my orders for years," he growled. "Now see that you stay there." 

"Of course," Alan said. "Though I doubt we'll be coming to the phone much … not unless you want cleaning agent all over your phone too?" he offered. 

"Well, cleaning agents look great on phones," Gordon told him. 

"That's enough," Scott said. "Get on with it." 

"Yes sir," Alan told him, then hit disconnect. He lent back against the couch laughing. "Did you see his face when you answered? He so expected us to be gone!" 

Gordon joined him in laughter, until they heard a knock at the front door. "That would be Sara and her mother," he commented, as they walked down the stairs. 

"Sara," he said, "great to see you. Mrs O'Brien; great to see you too." 

"What's the emergency, Gordon?" Sara said wearily. "Who's room's been destroyed this time?" 

Gordon led them into the house. "My brothers'. Scott, Virgil, and John," he elabourated, for the sake of Mrs O'Brien. 

Sara shot a suspicious look at him. "Not my fault," he said. "They were rather – clumsy." He opened the door, to reveal the carnage. Mrs O'Brien raised her eyebrows sceptically. 

"Honey and feathers," Alan elabourated. "Feel free to back out." 

Mrs O'Brien smiled. "Honey, I deal with worse than this everyday. This won't be a problem. I'm glad you called us, though, Gordon. It's hard to get rid of if you don't know how to properly." 

Gordon remembered the screams and exclamations he had heard coming from the bathroom, and reflected that this was probably true. "You sure you don't need us to stay?" 

Sara shook her head. "It's cool, Gordo. Off you go." 

"Thanks Sara, Mrs O'Brien. We owe you guys big time," Gordon said frankly. 

"Yeah," Alan said, adding his thanks. "Thanks, ma'am, Sara. We really appreciate it." 

Mrs O'Brien waved their thanks away. "You can take my Sara out to a nice restaurent some times, Gordon," she said. "That will about fix it. Off you go, now. Bet you're wanting to get to that game." 

"How did you guess that …" 

"I know kids, Alan," she told him playfully. "I recognised the signs." 

He grinned back at her, before following Gordon down the stairs. 

"I'm driving," Gordon said quickly as they reached the car. 

"Like hell you are," Alan protested, holding up the keys. "I'm the better driver." 

"Alan, you're the _faster_ driver. There's a difference." 

"Just get in the passenger seat," Alan ordered, climbing into the driver's seat. 

Gordon did so, grumbling. "This is illegal," he warned. 

"Whatever." 

Gordon rolled his eyes. "At least I _have_ a license." 

"Yeah – a _Learner_ license," Alan retorted, "so it's illegal for you too." He turned the keys in the ignition, and the car hummed into life.  

Gordon sighed heavily. "Alan … if you crash – I'll kill you myself, got it?" 

"Whatever." 

Alan drove the Porsche out of the driveway … 

******************************

Author's Note: Well … what do you think? Should I write another chapter about the soccer match, and the aftermath? 

Review, please! 


	2. Chapter II

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Oh, there's a line in this that is very similar to one from Blackadder – don't own it either. Unfortunately. ;-)

Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews! I'm glad it made people laugh … :-) Huge thanks to nikki-browneyes, guiller, Loren W. Cobh, HyperCaz, virgilrocks, Mad-Friend, Cap'n Phoenix, Star 07, Williw, and Assena.

I'm basing this on the timeline in the show, not the movie, but I'm using a line from the movie trailer as a starting point … has confused herself Does that make sense now? Ack. I'm going to go shake my head out to clear it!

Alan leant back against the seat, and gave vent to a contented sigh. "This," he exclaimed to Gordon, who mirrored him, "is the life."

Their team was up 3-1 at half time, the attendents at the bar had accepted Gordon's fake I.D., and they had seen neither hide nor hair of their brothers.

"The only thing we need now is another few goals, and the night is perfect," Gordon replied.

Alan stared over his shoulder then ducked down. "It _was_ perfect, you mean."

"What?"

"John, over by the bar."

Gordon risked a glance, and was horrified to see that Alan hadn't been mistaken; their brother was indeed standing at the bar. Gordo ducked down quickly.

"What now?" Alan asked desperately.

"Stay down," Gordon told him, "and hope he doesn't look over."

Alan nodded, and they both crouched down to wait. Gordon was muttering a string of words under his breath that Alan could only just catch, but he knew were strictly forbidden. He couldn't comment though – he was thinking exactly the same thing!

They waited another thirty seconds, then Gordon risked another look. He breathed a sigh of relief. "He's gone."

"Phew!" Alan exclaimed, letting go the breath he didn't realise he'd been holding. "That was close."

"What was close?" asked John, appearing beside Alan.

Alan let out a cry of surprise and alarm. Gordon froze. John grinned. "Well, well, little brothers. What are you doing here?" The menace in his tone was clearly obvious.

"Uh …" Gordon stammered.

A cheer went up from the crowd as the players entered the ground, and John looked over as the team entered. Gordon grabbed Alan's arm and pulled him bodily out of the seats. They made their way as quickly and quietly as possible up the stairs.

"As I was …" John's voice trailed off. "Hey!" he yelled, looking around for his brothers, but they were gone. He swore, reaching for his mobile phone as he walked back up the stairs. "Scott," he said, as his brother answered, "the squirts are here." He paused to listen to Scott's exclamations, then interrupted with, "I know all that, but I just saw them. They've done a runner." He told Scott his location, then hung up.

"Right, you little brats," he murmured, "no more Mr Nice Guy."

"Where are we going?" Alan asked as they sprinted down the stairs.

"Home," Gordon answered. "Or better yet … I may hide out in the bush until Dad gets back. They are going to kill us if they find us at home."

"No kidding, Einstein," Alan remarked, leaping down the last few stairs of a flight. "Aw hell …"

"What now?" Gordon asked, not stopping.

"I had stuff to do at home this week."

"Like what?"

"My woodwork project."

Gordon choked back a laugh as he clutched at the railing for support. "You got 'em good," he admitted.

Alan grinned. "Oh yeah."

They reached the bottom, and ran towards the gates. Alan grabbed Gordon's arm. "Slow down – we don't wanna make the guards suspicious."

Gordon nodded, and they slowed to a walk while they exited, trying to control their breathing.

The guards nodded at them as they exited, and the boys plastered on fake grins. The security guards nodded at them, and the moment they were a few metres away from the gates, they broke into jogs, which quickly accelerated into sprints as they neared the carpark.

"Think Sara will let us stay the night?" Alan asked, panting a little.

Gordon shook his head. "Too obvious. They may look there. Is a hotel sounding good to you?"

"A lot more attractive than going home, but … we're underage – is that legal?"

Gordon grimaced. "No better way to find out. Failing that, a night in the car is sounding like a pretty good deal!"

Alan glanced behind them. "No signs of pursuit yet."

"Good," Gordon panted as they reached the car. "You can drive."

"Ah-ha," Alan exclaimed, grinning as he got into the car. "So you're admitting I'm a better driver then?"

"No – you're faster," Gordon retorted, "like I said before. And if there's a time we need speed, it's now."

Alan nodded fervently in agreement, as he turned the keys in the ignition. "Come on, come on," he whispered at the car. Gordon didn't intervene – this was usual behaviour for Alan. "Come on, baby, don't give out on me – thankyou," he finished with a smile, as he turned off the handbrake and slipped the car into drive. "Off we go!"

Gordon gave vent to a whoop of success, despite the knowledge that their deaths were imminent! He high-fived Alan enthusiastically. Alan grinned back, but his grin faded as he glanced in the side mirror.

"Uh … Gordon …"

"What?"

"Does that car behind you look … familiar?"

Gordon turned his head, and glanced behind him. His eyes widened in horror. "We are dead …" he whispered. "Lose 'em."

"Yes sir," Alan replied laughingly, but neither of them felt like laughing with three mad brothers on their tail. He slammed his foot on the accelerator and sped away. He vaguely heard the other car speed up to follow them, as a plan began to form in his mind. Gordon was holding on to the seat handle for dear life.

"Alan … I hope you have a plan to get us out of this," he said fervently.

Alan rolled his eyes. "Of course I've got a plan. Leave it to me."

Gordon looked incredulously at him.

"Just trust me, OK?"

Another incredulous look.

"What?"

"Alan, we are in Scott's Porsche, speeding, we have just been to an event we were not supposed to go to, we have both been drinking, and we have three mad brothers on our trail. How are we going to get out of this one?"

"Just trust me."

"Alan, somehow that doesn't fill me with confidence," Gordon replied dryly.

"Well what _do_ you want to hear?"

"Can you give me at least a hint as to what you're planning," Gordon begged.

Alan smiled evilly. "It has to do with … a bridge."

"Oh Lord," Gordon groaned. "Alan, last time you said that, you flew a car off a bridge and only just landed on the other side of the road!"

"I had it perfectly under control," Alan snapped, irritated.

"Perfectly under control?! Then why were you screaming and panicking?"

"I was not!" Alan contested hotly.

"You were – ALAN!" he yelled, breaking off as a semi-trailer ran across their path. Alan slammed his foot on the brakes, and the car came to a grinding halt. He lent against the wheel briefly, panting and shaking.

Gordon held onto the handle of the seat, petrified. "Phew," he groaned at last. He glanced across at his younger brother. "Alan – you OK? … Alan?"

His brother didn't move.

"Alan?" Gordon repeated, alarmed. "Are you all right?"

Alan lifted his head, and nodded. He looked a little shaken. "Sorry Gordo."

Gordon grinned half-heartedly. "Don't worry. You – uh … you want a rest?"

Alan looked like he was shell-shocked; his face was pale and he was shaking. "I'm fine." He started up the car again, appearing to regain some of his colour. "Come on … we've got big brothers to avoid." He attempted a laugh, but it choked in his throat.

"OK, kid," Gordon said commandingly. "Get out of the driver's seat. It's my turn." He moved Alan over with little protest. He suspected that Alan was a little unnerved by the lucky escape they had just had; that combined with liberal amounts of alcohol had made him sleepy and easy to boss around.

He sighed and shook his head as Alan fell asleep. _We _have _to work on the kid's alcohol tolerance levels,_ he thought wryly, glancing in the rear vision mirror.

"Oh hell."

A car had parked itself behind them, and three very familiar figures were at that point walking straight towards him. Gordon didn't bother even turning the ignition on – the game was over, and by the looks of things, he and Alan had lost. _Badly. _ 

"Gordon Tracy," Scott said menacingly as he stood beside his trembling brother and ripped the car keys out of his hands, "I suggest that you make the explanation you are about to give me, exceptionally good."

"Uh …"

Scott's eyes glittered. "I thought so. _What the hell were you doing?_"

"Gordon?" Alan mumbled, slipping back into consciousness as Scott's raised voice hit his ears.

"Alan," Gordon said, shaking his head, "you really don't wanna wake up."

"Why not …" He rubbed his eyes, blinking … "Ah." He looked at his – very angry – older brothers. "We're dead, right?"

"Yep." John's voice was terse.

"Give the boy a prize," Virgil remarked sarcastically.

"Right – we'll deal with this at home," Scott decided. "Alan – how much did you put away?" he asked, noticing his brother's blurry eyes and evident sleepiness.

Alan shrugged. "Don't know."

"Gordon?"

Gordon shook his head. "I can't remember."

Scott grimaced. "Right. Gordon, you go with Virg and John. Alan, stay where you are, I'm driving."

Virgil headed back to his car, while John waited for Gordon. "Make it quick, Gordo," he ordered. Gordon did – when John was cross, you did _not_ mess with him.

He got into the back seat of Virgil's car, and immediately lent back and closed his eyes. He was feeling rather tired all of a sudden. John shook his head, but didn't comment. Instead, he reached for the radio controls, finding a station playing heavy metal, and turning the volume up to the max.

"OW!" Gordon yelled, holding his hands over his ears. "Turn it down, you nut!"

"Turn it down, you nut, _please_," Virgil corrected.

"Ok, please turn it down?"

John obligied with a smile. "I thought you liked that kind of 'music', Gordon?"

"Not when I'm trying to sleep, no," Gordon replied irritably.

"Note the use of the word 'music' in its widest possible sense," Virg added, turning the car onto the freeway. Gordon rolled his eyes, but was secretly pleased. His brothers weren't being as hostile as he'd thought they'd be.

"So Gordon … how would you like to die?"

Should have touched wood, should have touched wood … 

"Come on … I wasn't that bad, was I?" he pleaded.

Two silent glares were his only response.

"Ok … so I was …" he conceded. "Still … let bygones be bygones, huh?"

"We will when you will," John retorted. "If you guys hadn't been so uptight about this soccer match –"

"That's because we really wanted to go! And we wouldn't have drunk if we'd been with you guys!"

Virgil laughed. "Yeah right, kid. Gordon the tee-totaller?" He snickered. "Nice try."

"What I want to see," John said, menacingly, "it just how clean, our room is."

Gordon stifled a laugh. At least he and Al would be let off for that one. He had no doubt in Sara and her mother's skill.

As neither of his brothers seemed inclined to talk further, Gordon pulled out his phone, intending to message Sara to thank her again … and found one unread message. He read it and his spirits sank.

'Hey Gordo, Sara here. Sorry, but we had to leave before we finished – a friend of Mum's had a car accident. See ya later, love Sara.'

His jaw hit the seat. _I am dead … I am so dead … _He began to message her back, being careful not to sound angry.

'Hi – don't worry about it. Hope your Mum's friend is OK. Gordo'

He sent the message, and lent back against the seat with a sigh, closing his eyes. _Damn, could this get any worse? _

Scott's car was a lot quieter than Virgil's car – Alan had fallen asleep almost immediately upon Scott starting the car up again, and Scott didn't want to wake the kid. He would give Alan hell when they got home, but there was no reason to start early … especially with his brother in his current state. Scott doubted that he would be able to remain awake for more than thirty seconds at a time.

They reached home first, and Scott woke Alan with a non-too-gentle shake. "Come on, squirt, we're home," he growled. "I'm not carrying you in," he warned, as Alan stirred briefly, then made to go back to sleep. "It's walk in yourself, or sleep out here. Choose." 

With a sigh, Alan pushed himself into wakefulness, and clambered out of the car. "I think …" he murmured, "that it's catching up to me."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Scott replied dryly. "Come on. To bed." He helped Alan up to his room, and laid him down on the bed. He wasn't surprised to Alan pull the blankets across him and immediately go to sleep. "I'll deal with you in the morning," he promised, with a grim smile, exiting the room.

He walked back down to his car, mildly surprised that Virgil and the others weren't home yet …

_Yes_, Gordon decided, _it could – and just did – get worse. _

Virgil had just been pulled over for speeding. Luckily for him, he was just below the limit for alcohol. However, with the on-the-spot speeding fine, plus the demerit points against his license, and the indignity of having to let John drive his car home, as John had decided that Virgil was in no fit mood to drive, had combined to make Virgil a time bomb, ready to go off at any second … and Gordon was ready to bet that he or Alan would be the ones to cop it.

Gordon leant back against the seat, and sighed again. He opened his mouth to ask if John could change the radio station, but John growled, "Say a word, Gordo, and I will personally rip out your tongue and stuff it down your throat."

Gordon decided that he didn't really mind the radio station afterall.

They arrived home half an hour after Scott and Alan. Scott was waiting in the living room for them. His face was grim, and he glared at Gordon the moment Gordon came into his line of sight. Gordon stepped back. "What?"

"Our room," Scott growled.

"Ah."

"What?" John yelled. "It's not clean?"

"It is partially clean," Scott conceded.

Virgil shook his head. "Where's the other one?"

"Asleep – and in no condition to talk about anything. He's out to it." He smiled a little, then turned back to Gordon. "_You_, on the other hand, are not. _You_ are quite fine. So perhaps you wouldn't mind explaining how this happened?"

"Well actually I do …"

"It _wasn't_ a question."

"Well …" Gordon paused, an idea occuring to him. "Why don't you ask Virgil why we're so late?" he suggested innocently.

"_YOU RAT!_" Virgil yelled.

Scott frowned. "Virg?"

Virgil was fuming. He glared intensely at Gordon, who shrugged. "It had to come out, Virg."

"Virgil got a speeding fine," John told Scott. Scott's eyes narrowed.

"That so, Virgil?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah but –"

"Think if that's the case, you don't really deserve a car."

"Oh come on –"

Gordon grinned. He'd managed to successfully shift attention. Now, all he had to do was sneak out and make his way to his secret hideout – a cave in a nearby mountain. They'd never find him there, and he could return the following morning. Of course, Alan would cop it in the morning if Gordon "accidentally" returned late, but … the boy had brought it on himself, Gordon considered. He began edging his way towards the door, watching as Scott and Virgil's argument progressed to full-blown shouting, while John tried to play mediator.

"What would you know, you –"

"More than you, you cocky little brat!"

"Hey! Hey, cool it!"

Gordon grinned, and made his way – inch by inch – to the door. With a contented sigh, he eased his way out, and in less than thirty secodns he had grabbed all that he needed from a hidden store downstairs and had gone trekking into the night.

"Guys …"

"_If you weren't so damn cocky _–"

"_Excuse me? ME? COCKY? A bit rich coming from you, Mr Scott 'If it flies I can fly it' Tracy!_"

"Guys …"

"_Pardon? Have you got a problem, soldier? There is a difference between knowing what you can and can't do and being cocky!_"

"_Oh really? Well, _commander_, I'll tell you what you can do with that difference_ –"

"BOYS!" John yelled. He was gratified to see them snap to attention immediately. It was times like this John thanked his father for instilling such obedience into his sons. He decided not to muck around: "Gordon's gone."

"_WHAT?_" Scott and Virgil yelled together.

Scott shook his head angrily. Virgil simply sighed.

"Dumb move, little brother," Scott said ominously, before returning his attention to John and Virg. "He can't have been gone long."

"Long enough," Virgil retorted. "You know Gordo in the bushes around here – it's the only place he's comfortable – apart from of course water! He could hide in plain sight out there and we'd never see him … especially not at night."

John nodded. "He's right. In the morning … we go Gordon hunting."

Scott frowned. He was not happy with the idea of Gordon being out there on his own all night.

Virgil sighed again. "Scott, you are far too easy to read. Gordon will be fine. He has camped out that many times before …"

"But he's always had someone with him. We should at least have a look tonight, OK?"

John gave vent to a groan. "Fine. Let's get it over with … but if I catch that little brat …"

Author's Note: Well, there's another chapter for you! There will be another one I promise … :-)

Please review!


	3. Chapter III

Author's Note: Well, thanks for the responses to the first two chapters – I'm glad that people are finding this amusing!! Special thanks to saz, Star 07, Assena, AngelMouse5, Willow Tracy, Raliena, Miss Elizabeth Blakeney, Cap'n Phoenix, mcj, HyperCaz, zeilfanaat, and wildcat2006 for reviewing!

Gordon didn't waste time once he was out of the house – he knew that Scott would probably persuade the others to at least have a look for him, and he had better not be caught. He headed straight up into the bushland, figuring that it was best to go directly to his mountain hideaway. None of his brothers could track him in the day, let alone at night.

He heard a door slam behind him and increased the length of his strides, making it to the safety of the bushes just before his older brothers turned the outside lights on. _See you in a week_, he thought, tipping his – imaginary – hat at his brothers before slipping off into the night.

"You know, John," Scott commented as they walked outside, "has anyone ever told you that you can sound frightening like Dad when you want to?"

John smirked. "You're the first." He shrugged. "It's a gift."

Virgil choked back a laugh. "Yeah, right."

"You two snapped to attention pretty damn quick, I'm telling you that. Never seen you move so fast … except when Dad yells of course."

"Shut up, John."

They searched through the edges of the bushland for another few minutes, but quickly arrived at the conclusion that it was no use.

"He's gone," Virgil said. "No way we'll be able to find him, especially not in the dark. We can have another look tomorrow morning."

Scott nodded. "OK … he'd better come back before Dad calls …" He smiled. "I sure as hell won't be covering for him!"

John nodded. "Neither will I."

Virgil nodded. "It's a deal." He grinned. "I hope Dad rings early tomorrow morning," he added, grinning evilly.

"You and me both, little brother," Scott answered, ruffling Virg's hair as they walked back into the house. "You and me both …"

Damn my head hurts … 

Alan tried to move, but gave up on the attempt when the pain in his head left him dizzy.

Ok think … where am I? 

A bleary-eyed survey of his surroundings led him to the conclusion that he was in his own room. He moved again, and managed to get himself into a sitting position, leaning against the wall.

His eyes widened in alarm as he remembered the events of the previous night. _Oh boy … I'm dead. Where is Gordon? _He thought suddenly, noticing his brother's empty bunk. _If he's left me to deal with this on my own … _

Alan continued in this train of thought, planning Gordon's comeuppance, torture, and violent death, until he was interrupted by John's entrance. To his surprise – and alarm – his older brother smiled at him.

"Nice to see you awake, sleeping beauty," John remarked. He threw the curtains open, and Alan winced, glowering at his smirking brother. "How do you feel?"

"Just fine," Alan retorted angrily.

John raised one eyebrow curiously. "Oh good, in that case you won't mind me putting some music on then …"

He moved towards Gordon's stereo. "No!" Alan yelled quickly. "No … I've got a headache," he finished lamely.

John laughed. "No kidding. Get up."

"But –"

"Get up."

With a grumbled, "OK!" Alan dragged himself off the bed. "Now what?"

"Come with me, squirt." John held Alan's arm to support him down the stairs to their father's study. Scott and Virgil were waiting grimly.

"So, Alan," Scott said, once John had dropped their youngest brother on the lounge, "care to explain yourself?"

"Uh … actually, I think I'll pass on that, thanks Scott," Alan retorted.

"Alan," Virgil said quietly. He did not speak with a raised voice, he did not slam his hand on the table angrily. Nothing about his posture or tone implied a threat, or that his brother's swift and violent death would follow very quickly if he did not immediately answer Scott's question … but Alan understood perfectly well that all of the above _would_ follow unless he answered Scott and was extremely quick about it.

"Um … sorry," Alan said.

"Dad rang this morning," John said from his post, leaning against the wall near the desk.

Alan could hear alarm bells going off. "What did you tell him?" he asked nervously.

Scott smiled innocently … too innocently. "We told him about the … excellent night we had last night."

Alan found himself speechless with horror. He looked from one of his brothers to the next, seeing all the confirmation he needed in the smirks that adorned their faces. "What … ev-everything?"

Virgil nodded. "You bet."

_I will not panic … I will not panic … I will not start screaming and bashing my head into the desk … _

"That's a very convincing fish impersonation you're doing there, Alan," John remarked, laughing. Alan didn't even try to come up with a come-back. He was too horrified by what his brothers had done.

"Is he …"

"He's mad," John informed him, too happily. "Needless to say, you and Gordo are in for it when he gets home, and we have his permission to handcuff you guys to the television aerial in a thunderstorm if you cause any more problems."

_Gordo … _"Where is Gordo?" Alan asked, noticing that his partner in crime was missing. Scott's face darkened.

"He got away last night."

Alan grinned. "Too quick for you you old guys, eh?"

He regretted the words the moment they passed his lips. Scott gave him a death glare, and John started cracking his knuckles. Virgil on the other hand smiled. "Well, little brother, apparently he was … but trust me, that's not a good thing for you. Because all it means is that you have to clean up the remainder of our room on your own."

Alan growned. "But …"

John cracked his knuckles one last threatening time, and Alan conceded. "OK."

Gordon decided that he could get very used to this. He had made it to his secret cave within ten minutes, and had gotten safely inside. It could be a little difficult to get into, being located behind a waterfall, but the view from behind it was well worth the trouble. He had discovered it one day after John had dared him to dive off the top of the waterfall; he had been swept under the surface when he got to the bottom, and had ended up in the cave. Before he could explore it much, though, he heard John's panicked voice yelling, "Gordon! Gordon!" Realising that his brother thought he had drowned, Gordon quickly made his way out and to the bank. John had been too relieved to see his brother alive to ask where Gordon had been, and the confused descriptions given by the two boys of their adventures did not allow the others to properly understand the situation sufficiently to question the length of time Gordon had disappeared for.

Gordon had kept the cave as his 'little secret' for years; not even Alan knew for sure of its existence. He had suspicions – Gordon knew this for a fact – but he had never been able to find it or to force the truth out of Gordon.

Gordon sat back with a contented sigh. Over time, he had managed to bring a few creature comforts – like a supply of food – into his hidden cave, in case of emergencies … like the one he found himself in at the present time. He had no doubt about the intentions of his older brothers if they were to find him – he would be facing some monster payback, that was for sure. And if their father …

Gordon choked on his drink. _Dad! _

He distinctly remembered his father promising to ring Scott to talk to him about the soccer match. _Oh boy … and they were mad at us too … what if they've told Dad everything? Oh boy … oh boy … _

He considered his options carefully. _I can go back to the house and give myself up. Hmm … that would be _fun_! They'd kill me … I could try to find Alan and ask him what's been happening … but he's probably mad at me, and he could give me up to them. Not an option … but I have to know if Dad's called! Only other option is to stay up here for the whole week … but no … can't do that … Dad will get mad at me … _

His father had strictly forbidden Gordon to go camping on his own after the boy had nearly been burnt alive in a bushfire six months previously. Only dumb luck had saved Gordon from the flames that he had failed to see as he had been sleeping … and as John was later heard to comment, Gordon's run of dumb luck was likely to continue. The exchange – as Gordon recalled – went something like this:

_Scott: [shaking his head as Gordon was driven away in an ambulance] That was sheer dumb luck that he survived. John, how can you be _smiling_?! _

_John: [smirking] Well, look at it this way: he was dumb to go out there, and he's still dumb now … so I'd say the 'dumb luck's gonna last, eh? _

Gordon shook his head with a long-suffering grin, however it quickly faded as his thoughts returned to his current situation. Without doubt, he was in serious trouble.

_Better go back down and find out how bad it is,_ he decided with a sigh. _Here goes nothing … _

Alan's day had just gone from worse to even worse. Having successfully managed to clean the remainder of his brother's room in just under an hour – he wasn't sure if the _quality_ of the clean-up was up to scratch, but he was sure it was good enough to pass him – he had wandered down to the kitchen looking for lunch, but unfortunately, Virgil had caught him.

Now he found himself locked outside and under orders to clean the pool. Virgil had not taken kindly to Alan's insistant exclamations that he had finished, but was forced to concede when saw that his room did indeed look clean. However, any hope Alan had of an easy afternoon evapourated when Scott commented casually that the pool looked dirty. Virgil had agreed – grinning evilly – and Alan had been sent outside.

He had been working half-heartedly for about fifteen minutes when he heard a soft sound from the undergrowth nearby; he turned abruptly to face Gordon. His eyes widened in shock. "Gordo, what are you doing?"

"Pleased to see you too," Gordo retorted. "What's happening?"

"They're still mad," Alan informed him. "And they're talked to dad."

Gordon groaned. "And they told him …"

"Everything."

"We're dead."

"My thoughts exactly."

"And it's your fault."

"Now wait just a minute," Alan protested, a little too loudly.

Gordon grabbed his arm, eyes flashing in alarm. "Alan, be –"

"And what have we here?" asked a – very amused – voice from the other side of the pool. Alan and Gordon looked over to find John watching them. Gordon shot a death glare at Alan as he released his arm.

" 'We'?" he echoed. "You and who else?" he enquired.

"Me, Scott, and Virgil," John replied, grinning.

"Actually, Johnny," Gordon corrected, "that would be 'Scott, Virgil, and I'. Did you flunk English at school?" He grinned cheekily, knowing that that would drive John mad.

John glared. "Gordon, look at it this way – you are dead. I, on the other hand, have been a good boy."

Alan attempted to stifle his laughter … unsuccessfully. "You … a 'good boy'?" he echoed incredulously. "You are so lucky that Gordo and I haven't told Dad about that time you took his car and –"

"Alan, that was an accident!" John protested loudly.

"I thought I'd die laughing," Gordon smiled, taking up the story, "when they told Scott that you might be charged with – what was it? Indecent exposure? Disturbing the peace?"

"Gordon!" John yelled, his face red with embarrassment.

"It was indecent exposure," Alan told Gordon, grinning. "Though mind you, it was humiliating for us; being the brothers of the Robson Street Turkey was very embarrassing, you know."

"Alan Tracy, I will –"

"Though," Gordon continued, speaking over John's protests, "Johnny did prove that he can do a mean turkey impersonation!"

"Right, that is it!" John yelled. "You two –"

"How many had you put away by that point, John?" Alan asked innocently.

John took a few deep breaths, trying to ignore the raucous laughter of his younger – soon to be dead – brothers. "OK, you two," he said, forcing himself to calm down. "You wanna play it that way? _Scott! Virgil!_" he yelled, grinning as he saw his brother's faces fall. "What's the matter, squirts? Something wrong?"

"Uh, Johnny … you know we didn't mean any of that, right?" Alan asked nervously.

John nodded, smiling unconvincingly. "Oh, sure I know that Alan. _Scott! Virgil!_ But you know, I think this joke's so good that we can't keep it to ourselves, can we, huh squirts?" he finished, his tone slightly menacing. He glanced over as Scott and Virgil appeared. "Hi guys," he said, "look who I found."

"Forgive and forget?" Gordon offered as the five brothers sat in the lounge room. He was greeted with an incredulous snort from Virgil. "Look," he continued, "we've got dirt on you guys, you've got dirt on us … can't you just tell Dad you made it up?"

John grinned. "You think he'll believe us?"

Gordon conceded the point. "OK, so he won't … but in that case, Dad's gonna kill us at the end of the week anyway – can you guys lay off us till then?"

Scott cocked his head to one side. "Now why would we want to do that?"

Alan smiled. "Because we've got enough dirt on you guys to get you grounded for the rest of your lives."

Virgil laughed nervously. "Oh really?" he challenged.

"Hell yeah," Gordon retorted. "We've got the Robson Street Turkey incident for John –" Alan, Scott and Virg snickered at that, and John shot them a death glare "– and as for Virgil; don't think that you can hide the fact that you spent two thousand dollars on music videos a few months ago."

"That isn't so bad," John conceded, before noticing Virgil's cheeks slowly turning red, "or is it …" he finished, looking curiously at Virgil. Scott turned to Virgil, frowning slightly.

"You know what was on these so-called 'music videos'?" Gordon asked innocently.

"You said you wouldn't tell!" Virgil exclaimed, pointing furiously at Gordon. "And yet you've already told _him_!" He gestured furiously at Alan.

Gordon smirked. Scott sent Virgil a look that clearly said 'We will be discussing this later'. Alan patted Virgil on the arm. "It's OK, Virg. Wasn't anything I'd never seen before."

John's jaw hit the floor. Scott sent another death-look at Virgil. "Just what kind of music videos were these, Virg?" John asked incredulously.

"It was a mistake, OK?" Virgil yelled, flustered. "Can we move on please?"

Alan took pity on his – obviously distressed – brother, and turned to Scott. Scott – noticing that Alan was now regarding him with a look similar to that of the proverbial cat – backed away nervously. Alan laughed. "Why the guilty look?" Gordon asked. "Got something to hide, Mr Scott 'I-am-a-perfect-child' Tracy?" He gestured towards Alan. "Like to do the honours, little bro?"

Alan grinned. "With pleasure." He coughed to clear his throat, then paused for dramatic effect. "Virgil, John, you may not be aware of our older brother's 'dark side'. When he was 15, he –"

"OH NO YOU DON'T!" Scott yelled, suddenly realising which story Alan and Gordon had discovered about him.

Alan's face broke out into a wondering smile. "So, Gordo, that story really _is_ true!"

Gordon nodded, and held out his hand. "Pay up! That'll teach you to doubt me …"

"My wallet's in my room, I'll give you twenty later. Gordon told me that story, and I didn't believe him, you see," he explained to the three eldest brothers. He shook his head in wonder. "I never would have believed it of you, Scott!"

"Believed _what_?!" Virgil and John exclaimed together. Gordon winked knowingly, nodding at Scott, who looked a misture of shocked, horrified, and furious.

"I forbid you to say another word, Gordon Tracy!"

"But I haven't said anything!" Gordon protested. "It's Alan who's been telling Virgil and John about your wild escapade when you – ouch!"

Gordon landed on the couch as Scott tackled him. "One more word, little brother, and I really will call Dad," he threatened.

Gordon frowned suddenly, and noticed out of the corner of his eye, Alan straightened and regarding Scott curiously.

"Wait a minute …" he said slowly, as the penny dropped. "You didn't tell Dad?"

Virgil began beating his head against the sofa. John simply rolled his eyes to heaven and sighed deeply. Scott flushed a deep shade of red. "Well," he began, flustered, "in a manner of speaking, no, but –"

"You didn't tell Dad?!" Alan's voice was a mixture of pleasure, shock, and anger. "You mean – I did all that – you didn't call him –" he stuttered, incoherent. The thunderous look on his face, however, was perfectly coherent, and it was assuring Scott that his demise was to be a lot sooner than he had planned if he did not come up with a suitable explanation for this apparent anomaly in the story that he had told Alan, within the following five seconds.

"Uh … Virg, John … Help me out here guys …" Scott stammered, releasing Gordon and stepping back. "It was John's idea!" he revealed.

"Hey!" John protested loudly. "Don't – aw now come on, guys!" He too began backing away from his furious younger brothers. "Don't overreact!"

"Don't overreact?!" Gordon retorted incredulously. "Don't –" He broke off as the phone started to ring. All five brothers regarded it nervously. In the end Virgil took charge.

"If it's Dad," he said firmly, "not a word about any of this."

Scott nodded. "I agree … somehow I don't think he needs to know …"

"Definitely not," John agreed. "What about you two?"

Alan too nodded. "Yeah … I mean, he doesn't need to know _everything_, right?"

"Exactly," Gordon said, grinning. He walked over to the phone and checked the caller-ID. In that brief second, his hopes were shattered. This person would know whether they were lying or not. "Aw hell …" he whispered.

"What?" John asked.

"It's Grandma!"

Author's note: Well … should I continue, and see whether the boys are able to con Grandma? :-)

Thanks for the reviews; you guys are great!


	4. Chapter IV

Author's Note: Thanks for the responses to Chapter 3 :-) The boys are certainly finding things a little more complicated now … ;-)

Special thanks to Willow Tracy, white rose01, zeilfanaat, Loren W. Cobh, Cap'n Phoenix, JackSparrow'sGirl, killhill2003, jemalicious, Ginger Ninja, Wacky Walnut, teri, and Devlinn Reiko-sama for reviewing!

John let out an exclamation that Alan was sure his father would not have approved of. Virgil sank his head into his hands. Scott paled. "Oh Lord," he groaned.

"Uh, Scott," Gordon said, "I think even He would find Grandma terrifying!"

Alan laughed, breaking some of the tension in the room. The phone, ringing again a second later, however, brought the tension back to the surface.

"What do we tell her?" Virgil asked, panicking slightly.

"OK, calm down," Scott ordered. "Alan, you answer. You're the youngest, and you can do the innocent look better than any of us. Do _not_ mention anything about –"

Alan nodded. "Trust me, Scott, I'm not suicidal! I know what not to mention." He reached out nervously and answered the phone. "Hi Grandma," he said, as cheerfully as he could manage.

"Ah, hello Alan," Grandma responded. "Why did you take so long to answer?"

"Oh, uh, we were all outside," Alan answered.

"And you drew the short straw, and had to run up to the house to answer the phone, I suppose?" Grandma asked.

Alan began with: "Yeah –"

"You don't seem to be at all – _worn out_ by the exercise," Grandma suggested.

Alan cursed inwardly. "Well, I didn't have to _run_ so much as walk – and what are you suggesting, Grandma?" he asked playfully. "You suggesting that I'm not fit?"

Gordon offered silent thanks to Alan's quick-thinking. _Nice save, little bro. _

Grandma chuckled, though Alan could tell that she wasn't quite convinced. "So what have you boys been up to?"

Scott held his breath. "Oh, just – hanging around," Alan replied easily.

"Did your brothers enjoy the soccer last night?"

"Yeah," Alan answered, trying not to let any of his alarm show. "They had a really good time."

"Well, I'm glad. Now, you behave yourself, Alan Shepard Tracy," she told him firmly. "I'll be back tomorrow, and I want to find the house _in one piece._ I know perfectly well what five teenage boys can do to a house, or cars." Alan caught the suspicious edge to her voice, and resisted the urge to fall to his knees and beg forgiveness.

"Of course, Grandma!" he retorted, cockily. "Never fear. "

She gave a long-suffering sigh, diffused by the slight chuckle that followed.

"Why are you coming home early?" Alan asked cautiously.

"You father is coming home early too," Grandma told him. "He has to be back for business reasons. We'll be arriving tomorrow afternoon. I have to go now sweetie, but I'll see you then." She ended the call. Alan too disconnected, then grinned at his brothers. "That went well."

"She knows," John told him grimly. "Couldn't you tell?"

Gordon shook his head sadly. "You know, I was really trying to pretend that she didn't."

Scott rested his head against the desk. Cyclone Josie was coming home the following day, and by the sounds of things, the boys were in for it. Still, at least their father didn't know – yet.

"All right," he said, taking charge. "We have to take steps here. If there's no proof, then she can't get us – right?" He paused, but no one felt like shooting that premise down in flames, however flawed it was. "So, we have to make sure our room is spotless, and make sure that there's no way anyway can tell that the squirts got smashed last night. Or that Virgil got pulled over for speeding," he added, wincing as his brother shot him a vicious death-glare.

"That was not my fault!" Virgil protested.

John eyed him sarcastically. "Then whose was it? The little pixies driving the car instead of you?"

"Shut up John."

Alan sniggered.

"Don't _you_ start," Virgil protested. "_You_ are the reason we're in this mess in the first place!"

"Hey!" Alan yelled. "If you guys hadn't been so damn up tight about –"

"Language," Scott reprimanded. Alan ignored him.

"– that damn soccer match –"

"Language."

"– then we wouldn't be in this bloody predicament!"

"Language."

Gordon shook his head. "I knew I should have stayed in the country."

He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. Scott turned on him with the look of a lion pouncing on a legless and half-dead zebra. "What did you just say?"

"Uh …" _Oh boy … _

The rest of his brothers – instead of offering any kind of support as he turned pleading eyes on them – stopped their own arguments and settled back to watch.

"You admit that you stayed out in the bush last night?"

"Well … not exactly …"

Scott closed the distance slowly. "You stayed out there in the bush … after Dad specifically ordered you not to stay out there alone?"

_C'mon, someone help me out here guys … please? _

"Uh … sorry?"

Five minutes later, he knew that those words had been a mistake. Apparently Scott was not interested in Gordon's apologies. He wanted nothing less than a contract – signed in Gordon's blood – stating that Gordon would never leave the house again.

"– I never want to have to do this again, Gordon! You guys have well and truly crossed the line over the last two days. Trashing our room, getting smashed, speeding –"

"You aren't still on about that, are you?" Alan yelled in disbelief.

"You broke the law, Alan!"

"In trashing your room?" Gordon protested.

Alan yelled, right over Gordo, "Come on, Scott, it's not like you guys are angels."

"Hey," Virgil protested, "I resent that!"

"Yeah, this is Mr '60-in-a-50-Zone' Virgil Tracy," John scoffed.

"– oh, come on John –"

"– the most irresponsible youngers brothers ever –"

"– I mean, don't you think you're overreacting a little –"

"– Scott, don't you dare baby me –"

"– you guys are all being so immature –"

"– overreacting?! You could have been killed –"

"– _we're_ immature?! _You_ are the one who fainted when Grandma called –"

"– if that little punk hadn't screwed everything up –"

"– Scott, it was just a little alcohol; loosen up a little –"

"– I do not believe the stuff you guys say –"

"– it's not _my_ fault –"

"– a little alcohol? Alan, you drank enough to supply an army –"

"– you would know, Gordo, you gave it to him –"

"– don't get me started –"

"Well."

A quiet voice from the doorway stopped them all dead in their tracks.

"Sounds like you boys had a fun time."

Scott froze. Alan yelped in shock. John clutched the sofa for support. Virgil raised his eyes to heaven.

Only Gordo was brave enough to look the newcomer in the eye. "Uh … Hi Penny," he started nervously. "How have you been?"

Five minutes later, the five boys were settled around the lounge room, with Penny sitting at Jeff's desk, and Parker standing by the door. "It's nice to see you here, Penny," Scott said nervously.

Penny smiled at him. "It's lovely to be here, Scott. And it sounds like you boys have had a very nice time too." She smiled, a little too pleasantly. Virgil winced.

"Ah … yes … about that …" John began.

"You want me not to tell your father?"

Gordon nodded, exclaiming fervently, "Please!"

Penny frowned. "I'm not sure that would be right, boys. By the sounds of things, you boys have been doing some rather bad things."

"Well, not _that_ bad," Alan protested, before John hit him on the arm.

Penny smiled again. "Well, here's the deal …"

Author's Note: Here's the end of Part 4. Only a few parts to go now! Please review :-)


	5. Chapter V

Author's Note: Well, I hope that this chapter satisfies! :) I apoligise for taking so long to update …

Thanks to my reviewers for the last chapter, Devlinn Reiko-sama, Wacky Walnut, nikki-browneyes, Ginger Ninja, Cap'n Phoenix, whiterose01, killhill2003, JenCarpeDiem, Annabel, Fiona12690, KD Almasy, Lilo Hawkins, and andrewjameswilliams.

Chapter 5

"Now, as you boys know, Parker cannot be around all of the time," Penny began, smiling sweetly. Virgil – realising where this was headed – groaned silently. "So … when Parker is called away, I would like some of you boys to help me out around the estate. For the next few months."

"What?" Gordon exclaimed. John looked irritated. As much as the boys loved Penny, none of them found the prospect of being blackmailed into taking care of her entire estate to be particularly attractive!

Penny smiled. "Or I could just tell your father about your exploits …"

Scott elbowed Alan sharply as his youngest brother made a move to protest. "No, Penny," he said, forcing a smile. "It's fine. We'll do it. _All of us_," he finished firmly, glaring meaningfully at his brothers until they all nodded.

Penny smiled, a genuine smile. "Excellent."

An uncomfortable silence settled over the room. "So, Penny," Gordon said at last, "what _are_ you doing out here?"

"Your father asked me to visit you," Penny told him. "To 'check up on you, and make sure that no one had been killed' were his exact words, as I recall."

"Right." Gordon nodded. The silence returned.

John coughed slightly. "I'll just go … clear up the kitchen table," he offered quietly. Virgil got to his feet as well.

"I'll give you a hand with that, Johnny." He preceded his brother out of the door. Scott also rose from his seat.

"Yeah, I've got to … check the laundry …" he stammered.

Gordon sat biting his lip for a second, then got to his feet quickly. "Hey, Scott," he called. "You want a hand?"

"OK," Scott replied. Gordon nodded, and smiled briefly at Penny before leaving quickly. Alan was left sitting on the lounge on his own.

He looked nervously around the room once, then cleared his throat a few times. "I should … go … help," he mumbled.

Penny laughed. "Very well."

Alan was out the door in a heartbeat, following his brothers down to the kitchen and laundry, leaving a rather amused Penny and Parker alone in the room.

Alan arrived in the kitchen to find that it had become a virtual Control Centre. Scott sat at the head of the table, and Virgil sat two seats down on the left. John leant against the counter, while Gordon paced intermittently.

"So," Scott began as Alan entered the room, "you guys are _all_ going to do this, OK? _All of you._ Either that, or Dad finds out what we've been up to, and we're grounded for the remainder of our natural lives, and probably for a fair bit of the next life as well."

Virgil nodded. "I'll do it."

"Good," Scott replied. "John? Gordo? Alan?" One by one, each of his youngest brothers nodded. "OK … Oh, and we know that Dad will be back tomorrow – try to make sure that you have your stories straight, OK?"

Gordon grinned, and turned to Alan. "Wow, Alan," he said, melodramatically. "Mr Scott 'I-never-lie-to-my-elders' Tracy is _telling_ us to _'get our stories straight'_." He shook his head, obviously taking great delight in this. He placed a hand melodramatically on his head and closed his eyes. Alan laughed. "One of the pillars of my world has fallen," he cried dramatically, faking sobs.

"Oh shut up," Scott growled, slapping him over the back of the head. "It's old."

"Yes, you are," Alan retorted, deliberately mis-hearing. Virgil laughed.

Scott turned on his brother, glaring. Virgil raised his hands defensively. "Hey, it's true," he laughed. "You are getting on a bit."

"_I'm 20!_" Scott yelled. "That is _not_ 'getting on a bit'!"

"Well, you know, Scott," John said, joining in, "for some birds, 20 is very old."

Scott tried his breathing exercises. _I am not angry. I do not want to shove some sort of blunt implement through each of their brains. The anger is my friend. I can make it go away! _"John …" he said quietly, with forced calm, "may I ask, what part of me, exactly, _looks like a budgerigar?_"

Gordon got to his feet and walked over to Scott, frowning as if in concentration. "You know," he concluded after a few seconds, "you're turning a lovely shade of red."

Virgil nodded in agreement. "Just wait, I'll get the bird-watcher's book and well cross-reference."

Scott snapped. "Right!" he yelled. "That is it!"

His brothers, sensing that they had awoken the sleeping tiger – instantly fled the kitchen, Scott hot on their tails. "You little brats!" he was yelling. "When I catch you …"

Alan slammed and locked the laundry door, then moved quickly out of the way as his brothers prepared their ambush.

"All right," Virgil whispered, as Scott hammered on the door. "Alan, get the car. Gordo and John – you're with me. Quick strike, then run." Alan nodded, and left the room quickly. He ran towards the garage. He had swiped Scott's keys, while his brother had been talking that morning, as a 'just-in-case'. Now he was very glad that he had. Scott's car was a lot quicker than Virgil's.

Meanwhile, Scott had found the spare laundry key. As he was about to put the key in the lock, he paused. The laundry was quiet … or was it. He froze. Was that … _muffled laughter!! _

_So, they want to ambush me, do they? _he thought, grinning. _Two can play at that game … _He stayed quiet, listening, and was rewarded a few seconds later by the sound of a car engine – _his car engine_ – starting. His hand flew to his pocket, but he found it empty; Alan must have taken his keys.

As he stood there, calmly planning his revenge, Scott felt some of his anger dissipate as he remembered some of the pranks that he had pulled. _I guess this is payback … _he thought. _But … _he added, squaring his jaw, _that doesn't mean that I just give in to it. _

Quietly, he snuck out of the kitchen and left the house through a side door. _I'll give them an ambush … _

Penny sat in the lounge room. "The boys have been a bit quiet, 'aven't they, Milady?" Parker asked, slightly worried.

Penny smiled. "It's all right, Parker. I think they're too busy getting revenge on each other to bother us."

Virgil waited impatiently. Gordon was bouncing up and down on his heels. John groaned quietly, "Where _is_ he?"

"Looking for me?" came a voice from behind them. They whirled around … to find a tape player sitting just outside the door behind them. Too late, John swung around to the laundry door … to be hit in the face with a blast of water instantly followed by a full sack of flour that rained down over all three boys, sticking to their skin.

"SCOTT!" Virgil yelled. "Get him!" he ordered, firing a canister of laundry soapsuds at Scott, who lunged backwards as he was caught in the chest by the suds. Gordon was too busy kneeling on the ground coughing from the vast amount of flour in the air to bother attempting to hit Scott. John, however, disregarded this, and strode quickly towards his elder brother, hefting a water pistol with something – that was most definitely not water – inside.

Scott took the only sensible option. He ran.

Alan waited in the garage, the car engine humming slightly. Upon hearing a shout of "SCOTT!", he presumed that this meant that the attack had been successful. Tapping his fingers absently on the window, he released the handbrake and slipped the car into Drive, gliding out of the garage.

The sight that greeted him both shocked and amused him. Scott – who was, quite literally, foaming – was fleeing a John who looked to be a look – paler than usual. Both boys shouted when they saw the car; neither shout was intelligible, but Alan understood the gist of them:

_You stop that car right now. _

_Well,_ Alan thought, _that's not very likely. _He accelerated, pulling hard to the right, then straightened, before banking right sharply. This maneuver had brought him within two metres of the house, and he was inside in a flash, slamming the door after him, and leaning back against it with a sigh of relief. He disregarded the yells of Scott and John – who both sounded rather panicky, for some reason – and closed his eyes. He was safe.

Alan opened his eyes, and froze. _Oh God. I am dead. _

Scott knocked hard on the door. "Alan, get _out_ of there!" he yelled. John, beside him, was equally irritated at their youngest brother.

"That idiot …" he muttered. "Couldn't he remember not to go in this door? Is it that hard?!" He finished the sentence with another bang on the door.

At this juncture, Virgil and Gordon – who was now able to breathe again – appeared round the corner, weapons in hand. "Ah-ha!" Gordo yelled, and before John could find the words to stop him, Gordon fired. Both Scott and John were covered in soapsuds by the missile. Gordon froze immediately after he fired, and gazed at the stains on the wall.

"Is that … oh no … is …" he stammered.

Virgil stared wide-eyed. "Please tell me that you did not just fire soap suds at my mural," he said, anger very plain in his voice.

"I, uh … help me out, here, Scott," he begged.

Scott shook his head. "You didn't just get the mural, kid," he reminded him. He and John stepped away from the door. "Either of you guys got a key to this door?" he asked. Neither Virgil nor Gordon showed any signs of having heard him. Virgil was advancing on Gordon in predator fashion, and Gordon was backing away very quickly. "Virgil!" Scott called.

Virgil started. "What? Oh, yeah, sure." He pulled a key ring out of his pocket and – without taking his eyes off Gordon – threw it at Scott. "The one with the duct tape around the handle," he told him.

Scott nodded. "Thanks." He unlocked the door, and then reached inside and pulled Alan out, before slamming the door again. Holding him firmly by the scruff of his neck, he shook him slightly.

"Alan …" John growled. "Never ever go in there again."

"I didn't mean to," Alan said petulantly.

"That is _Dad's study_," Scott said. "Do you know how important the things in there are to his business? If you went in there and took any junk in there …"

"Sorry," Alan said quickly, shaking loose. "And by the way … you guys might wanna look over there. I think Virgil's about to strangle Gordon."

John grinned. "That's OK. Look at what Gordon did to the mural."

Alan turned his head to look. He grimaced. "That's bad. But … I really think that you might wanna look … cos Gordo's turning blue."

John and Scott turned around quickly, only to see that Virgil had Gordon by the arm and was talking to him in very low, threatening tones. Gordon looked very scared, to be sure, but he certainly wasn't blue. They turned back round to find …

Alan bolted for the car. John – without thinking – fired quickly at him. Scott yelled "NO!" as his car was drenched in lukewarm orange marmalade.

"JOHN!" Scott yelled. John backed away quickly. "I'm going to kill you! Look what you've done! I can't believe you …"

"**_BOYS!_**"

Scott froze, eyes wide. _No … not today. It's not possible … aw hell. _

_Oh man … _Virgil thought. _Earth, why aren't you splitting and letting me sink down into oblivion? Please? Please? _

John simply frowned in resignation. They were gone.

Gordon quickly pulled free from Virgil and took a few steps backward. He plastered on a fake grin, but it quickly feel as he started chewing his lip, apprehension showing clearly on his features.

Alan stared at the ground, lost for words.

Standing only ten metres away was their father, Jefferson Tracy. Standing beside him and looking – if it was possible – even angrier was his mother, Josephine Tracy.

Author's Note: The boys are in big trouble now! Hopefully next chapter will be up soon … :) Review, please.


	6. Chapter VI

Author's Note: I'm back! And I'm … well, I'm very apologetic. I had no intention whasoever of staying away from this story, or fanfic in general, for as long as I have done. I've had a rough trot in real life over the last few months, but hopefully now I will have more time on my hands, and, more importantly, more computer time. Thanks to everyone who reviewed while this story was on unofficial hiatus; you guys made me want to come back to this story when I was thinking that I'd never write again. So thankyou.

Enjoy …

"I can't believe he actually did it," Alan grumbled again. "I can't believe he actually grounded us for six months!"

Gordon shrugged. "_That_, I have no trouble believing. What I have difficulty believing is that he actually made Scott and Virgil sell their cars."

Virgil glared at him, and Gordon's grin widened despite himself.

"Shut it, Gordon," John groaned. "Baiting Virgil isn't going to help us get through this massive lot of paper we have to file."

"You sound like Scott," Alan complained.

John replied, "Well, Scott isn't always wrong, you know. He tends to be right about things 99 of the time."

Had any of the brothers decided to drop a pin at that precise moment, the noise it made when hitting the floor would have been plainly audible to all persons in the room. Gordon, Alan, even Virgil all stared disbelievingly at John. John paused, pulling a face.

"Sorry guys, " he said after a second. "Don't how that slipped out."

Gordon shook his head. "You know, for a second there, I thought that all this filing had sent you completely sane."

John half-laughed, before Gordon's words sank in. "Wait … gone _sane_?"

"Yeah, well, you were already insane."

"Speaking of Scott," Alan said, interrupting, "where is he?"

Virgil pointed in the general direction of the kitchen. "Helping Grandma." He shook his head. "And you think we are unlucky to have all this filing to do! Give me filing over an angry Grandma _any_ day!"

The boys shuddered as one. Suddenly, the old dusty papers lying in papers around them didn't seem so bad.

They continued filing the papers away for another few minutes in silence before a cry of "Pardon me, Scott Tracy? _What did you say?_" could be distinctly, if faintly, heard from the kitchen.

"Sounds like Grandma," Gordon observed.

John immediately leapt to an uncomfortable conclusion. "You think that … Scott might have let slip …"

The four brothers looked at each other as the heavy footsteps of their father approached. Gordon sank his head into his hands. "I _knew_ we should have told him about the soccer game," he groaned.

The End

Author's Note: Well, there you go! I hope you have all had as much reading this as ihave had writing it … I hope to be back in the Thunderbirds fandom soon J This story was never intended to be anything too long - and this seemed like a good way to end it. At least, it seemed like a good idea at the time!

Thanks too everyone who has reviewed this story - you guys are fantastic! What started as a random, crazy idea turned into a random, crazy fanfic … isn't life good like that?

angel


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